


Copacabana: At the Copa

by tomatopudding



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Romance, Slash, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-07
Updated: 2010-03-07
Packaged: 2017-10-10 06:49:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/96814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomatopudding/pseuds/tomatopudding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. His name was Jack, he was a show boy. A Jack/Ianto story to Barry Manilow's "Copacabana"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Copacabana: At the Copa

Somewhere in Dalston, there is a club called Copacabana, usually referred to as the Copa. At the Copa, you can come to have a drink, watch the show, and maybe more if you had the money for it.

His name was Jack, he was a show boy. When he performed, Jack wore this one suit coat, pure black, over a bare chest with a similarly coloured bowtie around his neck, and tight trousers cut off at the knee. In his soft, brown hair, Jack wore a few feathers dyed a brilliant yellow. He was one of the backup dancers, but he danced with all his might. Name a dance, any dance, and Jack could do it. Meanwhile, across the crowded floor where Jack performed, hoping and trying to become a star, Ianto tended bar, both working at the busy hours of eight PM until four AM. They were young and they had each other, who could ask for more?

At the Copa, they fell in love.

His name was John, he wore a diamond in a thin silver band upon his finger. One particularly busy evening, John entered the club and the manager, a man by the name of Owen, escorted him to a small table off to the side.

Jack's dancing caught John's eye and, when Jack had finished his set, John called him over.

'What's your name, sweet thing?' John asked, his eyes bright as they appraised Jack from head to toe.

'Jack, sir,' Jack answered, suddenly self-conscious.

'Aren't you _adorable_,' John murmured, his hand resting on Jack's hip, 'And deliciously American.'

'If you're looking for a private dance, you'll have to search elsewhere,' Jack told him, moving out of reach.

John gave a growl and stood.

'If it's you I want, then it's you I get.'

In one swift, sudden movement, John pressed his lips forcefully to Jack's pulling him close with a hand on his arse.

'Oi!'

Jack managed to pull himself out of John's grip at the latter's surprise. John turned his attention to Ianto, the one who had just spoken, a sour expression on his face.

'Who the hell are you?'

'Jones, Ianto Jones.'

There was a sickening crunch as Ianto's fist connected with John's nose, causing him to reel backwards.

'You little _shit_!'

The punches flew, hitting face, stomach, chest. Owen rushed over, arms waving wildly.

'Stop!'

Owen bodily pulled John off of Ianto and both men sprang to their feet, panting heavily. Jack rushed over to Ianto.

'I'm alright,' Ianto assured him.

And then, there was a single gunshot, Jack's scream, and the thud of a body hitting the floor.

At the Copa, he lost his love.

His name is Jack, he was a show boy. But that was thirty years ago when there was still a show. Now it's a Disco, but not for Jack. He sits at the bar in the outfit he used to wear, a single yellow feather still tucked behind his ear. He sits there, his mind dulled with alcohol as he drinks himself half-blind.

And Owen watches with sympathy, his voice full of sorrow when people ask him what happened. 'He lost his youth and he lost his Ianto and he lost his mind.'

At the Copa, don't fall in love.


End file.
